Absent End
by scarylolita
Summary: Karen McCormick is stuck in an endless cycle of hedonistic pleasure, not realizing that too much of a good thing isn't good at all. Kenny wants more for her, but words don't mean a thing unless you practise what you preach. Try as he might, Kevin can't seem to keep his younger siblings in line. Slash, Crenny.
1. If these walls could talk

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**AKA The Misadventures of the McCormick Kids. Poor babies, how I love to torture them. **

**Some angst for y'all. All in Ken's POV.**

* * *

_Crawl, crawl as a child_

_Move like a man_

_Pushing like a father_

_Pulling like a friend_

Blond Redhead

It's Saturday morning – another lazy summer day. I wake up with a massive migraine, squinting as I get up and trip over an empty beer bottle from last night. Typical. I try to recall what types of mind altering drugs I put into my system. My eyes ache as I strain to keep them open. Also typical. I struggle to make breakfast in this stranger's kitchen, to make a cup of coffee. '_It's too early in the morning for this shit_…' I think to myself, slowing my pace to try and find some neutral ground. I don't quite remember what happened, so I'll just assume it was a good night. It's the only logical thing I can do. I grab a disposable cup and pour the dark liquid inside before leaving the kitchen with a piece of toasted bread in my other hand.

I survey the halls. There are kids unconscious, passed out in their own puke. There's a girl with no shirt on and a lot of spilled drinks. The floor is sticky beneath my feet and I can't help but cringe as I move to find Craig. He's in the next room, asleep in a pile of bodies. Among them is Clyde, Bebe, Nichole and Token.

I finish the piece of bread and sip on the coffee. It tastes awful. I debate throwing it on Craig's face, but I won't. Instead, I wake up him up by shouting in his ear. "Wake up, bitch!" I yell, waking a few other people up in the process. Craig stirs, brows drawing together and there is pain evident on his face. He is probably as hung over as I am. He sits up, untangling himself from the pile of bodies and forcing himself to his feet. After a few more sips, I discard the coffee cup on a nearby table.

I take Craig's hand and we walk home. "Did you see Karen there?" I ask.

"No," he murmurs. "Did you see Ruby?"

I shake my head. "No."

"Jason slept with your sister, y'know," Craig mumbles.

"I know," I say tersely.

"He said she was a good fuck. He's not the only one… The kids brag about it," he continues. "They say she's easy. They say all the McCormick kids are easy."

"I know," I hiss. "Shut up…" I can't deny it's true. Kevin has sucked cock at Colfax Point on more than one occasion. Even I haven't done shit like that. Ruby and Karen will be freshmen this year. It makes me physically sick knowing about the kind of shit they get themselves into. They're only fourteen, for fuck's sake. They're practically babies.

I walk with Craig to his house and we make out for a few minutes before parting ways. When I arrive home, Kevin is the only one here. Not even my parents are around. He is sitting in the living room putting freshly dried marijuana into little baggies. I linger near the stairwell and ask, "So, how was your night?"

"Pile of shit," he murmurs hoarsely, eyebrows drawing together in concentration. "You?"

"Yeah, 'bout the same," I say. "How's business?"

"Pretty good," he snorts, running a hand through his brown hair. "In this fuckin' town, there's not much to do but get high."

"Yeah," I say. It's true enough.

Me and Kevin look a lot alike. I used to deny it when I was young, but I can see the resemblance now. We've got the same skin tone, the same hair style. The only difference is that he's got brown hair and he's a few inches taller. It's funny. I used to be the one taking care of things around here, but now it's Kevin. He's cleaned himself up. He keeps us fed and helps us out when we've drank too much or greened out on the carpet. He's quit hard drugs since his teenage years. Now he just smokes weed. I thank God we've got at least one good head around here, because for fuck's sake, me and Karen are off in our own little world most of the time.

We chat aimlessly for a few minutes and then I retreat to my room. I try to be productive, but I can't bring myself to do anything worthwhile. I'm too distracted.

Karen gets home late, like she often does. I try not to think about where she spent the night and what she spent the night doing. I've tried hard to keep her from the world, but she's accepting all the wrong things with open arms. She doesn't bother greeting me as she walks past my bedroom door. She's wearing her hair up, with red lipstick and dark eye makeup. Her black dress is short and she's wearing fishnet tights with black shoes. She was probably out with Ruby Tucker. They were probably at the same party I was at last night. They're best friends. I can't stand Ruby, really, I can't. I've tried to be nice to her, but she's such a brat. I don't even think Craig likes her that much and they're siblings.

I want to wrap Karen up… keep her safe. She doesn't want me to, though. She makes that clear many times. She says it's because I'm a hypocrite. I do all the things I want to keep her safe from: unprotected sex, hard drugs and douchebag guys who use and abuse those beneath them. She says I'm an idiot because I have Craig and Craig is good but I don't keep him. I'm always on and off.

"It's never as bad as you think." Craig Tucker once told me that. Of all people! Funny, right? Craig doesn't like to show it, but he's a good person. Sometimes I think he's too good of a person because he always gives me what I want, even when it's more than he might want to give. He has let me touch him with hands that were drunk and aggressive. Sometimes we're violent. He hits me. He doesn't hit me hard. Sometimes he just does it defensively, but when he does I don't hesitate to hit him back five times as hard. Let me just say straight up, getting beat on by the person you love is almost worse than getting beat on by your own flesh and blood… but shit happens.

I know Craig won't hurt me unless I hurt him first, whether or not it's with my fist I'm always the one starting it. Sometimes he'll hit me again. Sometimes he won't. Sometimes he'll just sigh and leave. He always forgives me for it, but I feel pretty downright awful about it when all is said and done. Even before we got together there were times we'd be texting and I'd have my hand down my pants at the simple thought of him. I fantasized about him a lot. I wanted him so fucking bad.

The first time we fucked it was nice. The second time we fucked I was angry and it wasn't so nice. He was shaking and squirming. I had a firm grip on his shoulders and he couldn't budge. He lied afterward and said it didn't hurt but I saw the blood. I love Craig. Really, I do. I know I don't treat him the way I should, but I do love him.

The first time we fucked was also the first time I saw him laugh in all my years of knowing him. I guess it is some kind of coping mechanism but it's cute nonetheless. Getting a dick up the ass hurts a hell of a lot in the start. It's a pain I know quite well and it's a pain Craig slowly got accustomed to.

We're done high school now. I just turned eighteen a few months ago and the guys threw me a party. It was a small party, with only my closest friends. I was glad for that because I don't have a great track record with parties lately.

Eric calls me a desperate hooker. We would play this game where one of us would think of something disgusting and see who would do it for the lowest amount of money. I always won. I don't want to be the kind of guy I am. I don't want to be the guy who is always the object of sympathy. I don't want to be the guy who is always naked at parties either, but it still happens. Just last month, Bebe saw me with no clothing and jerking off in front of a group of college guys I didn't even know. Naturally, it was a frat party. The worst kinds of parties are frat parties. I went with Bebe, Clyde and Token but we all dispersed and I found a crew of unfavourable guys to waste time with. The drunker I got, the sadder I felt. I get in these moods where I hate myself and I want to hurt myself because I get so angry and miserable. I let one of the guys stick the neck of an empty beer bottle up my ass and this is around when Bebe found me. She told everyone to scatter and she helped me find my clothing. Looking back on it, I'm inexplicably thankful she didn't leave me alone in my drunken dimness, but at the time I was just angry at her.

I didn't get fucked that night. I got dressed and she held my hand as we went to find Clyde. She told him that she was taking me home. I started crying in her car and she pulled over. She put her arms around me and held me so tightly. She was trying to tell me that I didn't do anything wrong and that it was fine. I think she was crying too because her voice was wet when she asked me, "Why do you do these things?" It left me feeling hollow. I don't know why. I just felt empty. When I was finished letting it tall out, I could hardly move a muscle. That's when I knew I was going to puke. I opened the door and hurled on the ground. She rubbed circles on my back and said nothing more. She just took me home after I was done being sick.

At home, Karen gave me this look of disgust and Kevin helped me upstairs since I couldn't walk straight. Bebe told Kevin all about what I had been up to and the icing on the cake was when she said, "Keep an eye on him."

It's funny. Karen used to be the one taking care of me. Now it's Kevin. Time really changes people. When I was younger, part of me hated Kevin… but now, I wouldn't want him to change.

* * *

The following morning, I take a quick shower and then Karen hogs the bathroom, putting make up on in the mirror. "You look like you're on your way to the street corner," I tell her angrily from the doorway. I know I shouldn't be insulting my little sister like that, but I'm too frustrated to keep my mouth shut.

She turns to me and laughs. "Comin' from you, it don't mean much." She puts the cap on the lipstick and adds, "I hear stories, y'know… really fuckin' gross stories that I'd rather not hear about my own damn brother."

"I hear stories just like that about you," I retort. "It doesn't make me feel too great, either."

She rolls her eyes and throws the lipstick on the counter, walking past me and downstairs. I'm not angry at her. I'm mostly just angry at myself because I think I created this monster. I miss the days when she was young and she would make me and Kevin play with her. She'd put make up on us and do strange things to our hair, but we didn't mind it. It made her happy. Now, she finds happiness in different things. Can I even call it _happiness_?

Kevin is already gone. He's probably out meeting clients. I ought to get going, too. I work at a sex shop, even though I've just finished high school. But I'm eighteen, so it's all good and legal. Sometimes I let my boss rail me. If I'm in one of those self-loathing moods, he'll take advantage of it. Craig hates that. I told him about it and he got so angry at me for letting it happen. He said, "Just because your dad beats you it doesn't mean you should become something to be used and abused. Come on, you're better than this." It didn't really sink in. If it did, maybe I'd be in a better place than I am now.

The first time it happened was during the job interview. "Put that pretty mouth of yours to work," he said and I did and then we fucked. When it was over I just laid there and felt sick, having had to force back a few tears. He said nothing more but I felt him clean the mess off my stomach and then I heard him leave the back room. I felt stupid, but still, I got the job. I must've done something right.

* * *

On my way home from work, I stop at the corner store and buy a pack of cigarettes. When I arrive home, I light one and my parents don't bother telling me not to smoke. I kind of wish they would because then it would allow me to pretend that they actually care about what I do. I throw my cigarette on the floor, but they still don't look twice.

I let out a miserable sigh and go upstairs, wandering into my brother's room. "Kevin?" I say his name weakly as I hover in the doorway.

"What?" he murmurs.

"Do you have any weed?" I hate myself for asking, but I can't help it.

He lets out a sigh because he's used to this by now. "Yeah, come here." I walk inside and take a seat on his bed as he digs through his nightstand, pulling out a plastic bag. "Here," he hands me the bag, a red lighter and his pipe.

I nod my thanks and fill the pipe before lighting it.

"Why are you upset this time?" he asks.

I don't answer the question. Instead, I just sigh and ask one of my own. "When did everything get so fucked up?"

"What do you mean?" he wonders, raising a brow.

"Karen hates me. I hate me. Craig thinks I'm a mess. My friends think I'm a mess," I explain, choking out the words in a pained whisper

"I think you're a mess, too. Hell, you _are_ a mess," he cuts in. "You're worse off than me. It don't take a genius to see that. You're fucked." He takes the pipe from me and puts it to his lips, inhaling deeply before handing it back.

"Thanks," I murmur dryly.

"You tried fuckin' hard to hide Karen away from the kinda shit you get up to, but it don't work that way," he continues. "You can't be a hypocrite. If you're gonna talk to her about rights and wrongs you better practise what you preach. Otherwise your words don't mean shit. She grew up seeing you going out to parties, bring strangers home, get high, and get drunk. She saw you doing exactly what you told her not to. She prolly got curious. I mean, it's understandable, right? Wouldn't you get curious if the roles were reversed? Little girls and little boy are impressionable like that."

"Yeah…" I relent. I guess part of this really is my fault. I hate myself even more for it.

* * *

Craig shows up at the door later in the day, offering me a less than genuine smile once I let him in. He isn't one for smiles. He never was, but now he smiles even less than he did when he were kids. I offer him a smile in return, though mine is much more sincere. I gladly take in his appearance before gesturing for him to follow me upstairs. He rubs the dark circles around his eyes and does so. Once we're in my room, he takes off his chullo hat, revealing a head full of black hair. He has hat-head and each dark strand is stuck up in an odd angle. I bring my hands up and smooth his hair down.

"You look tired," I say. "More so than usual."

He shrugs, but doesn't respond. I guess I'm not surprised. There are times when Craig goes days without saying a word. Sometimes he does it when he's upset, sometimes he does it when he's tired and sometimes he does it when I've done something wrong. He's really good at the silent treatment. It drives me crazy and what makes it worse is that he'll still hang out with me and he'll still sleep with me… he just won't make a damn sound. Having someone physically close, but mentally far away is the worst punishment and he knows exactly how to grind my gears. He won't talk to me until I've figured out what I did wrong.

"Am I getting the silent treatment?" I ask, just to make sure he's not pissed.

"No," he says.

"Okay, just making sure," I tell him before reaching for the zipper on his sweater. I pull it down and tug it off his shoulders, letting it fall into the carpet. I reach a hand into his jeans, letting it travel further south. I feel coarse hair, smirking at him as I wrap my fingers around his dick.

His eyes are half-lidded and then he closes them completely. He grabs my wrist and says, "Stop."

I do as he asks, watching as he takes a step back and finishes undressing himself. I do the same, pulling my t-shirt over my head and dropping my pants and shorts. Once we're both bare, we move to my mattress. I've never had an actual bed – just a fucking mattress lying on the floor. It's not even a good mattress, but oh well. Craig never complains.

Craig sucks on his fingers for a few seconds and then they disappear behind him. I swear, the sight of Craig fingering himself is enough to make me come all on its own. I love the fact that I'm the only one who gets to see this side of him. I'm the first person who fucked him and he hasn't let anyone touch him since I did. I like to see him when he's not looking so stoic. I lie back and roll a condom on for once in my life before lubing up.

When Craig finishes preparing himself, he slowly sinks into my lap and starts to roll his hips, impaling himself. I close my eyes and thrust upward, meeting each jerk of his hips. I plunge in quickly. He gasps and half-sobs. I pull out and do it again. The grip he has on my shoulders tightens. "Does it hurt?" I ask. I never know for sure. I mean, it's not supposed to… but the sounds he makes cause me to think otherwise.

"No…" he whispers, letting out a shaky breath. We have a safe word, but he never uses it. No matter how rough we get. Sometimes I think he may have just forgotten it.

I hook my arm around him and sit up, flipping him over so he's beneath me. I don't move. I just sit here with my dick in him for a minute. "I love you," I tell him.

"Yeah," he says. "I know you do… and I love you, too." I know he means it, even though he doesn't say it as often as I say it. Why else would he stick around and deal with so much of my bullshit? I'm high maintenance… I wouldn't blame him even if he did leave… though, I probably wouldn't let him get too far.

I start moving again, slower this time. I like it best when it's like this. It's not violent. We're not angry. We're calm and it's nice.

* * *

Craig spends the rest of the day with me. We just lounge around in our boxer shorts like a couple of lazy bums until Karen comes home. By then, we're both sitting in the kitchen drinking black coffee. She strolls in carelessly, trying to portray an air of apathy, but I can read her better than that.

"What happened?" I ask, immediately noting the bruise on her jaw and smudged eye makeup.

She sighs warily. "Some asshole got mad 'cause I wouldn't give him a piece."

I frown. "What's his name?"

"Don't worry about it," she insists. "Ruby got him back… It was awesome." She lets out a little laugh, as if recalling the incident. "She was wearing those really skinny, sharp high heels. You know… I could never wear shoes like that, let alone walk in them. It's Ruby's talent. She can fight in those stilettos."

"Is she okay?" Craig asks, not sounding like he honestly cares that much. Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't.

Karen nods. "No one messes with Ruby Tucker, ain't that right?"

"Yeah," he murmurs. "That's right."

It's true. No one fucks with Ruby. Unfortunately, the same doesn't go for Karen. A lot of people fuck with her – or, try to fuck with her. It's because she's small. Ruby, on the other hand, is tall. She's not afraid to piss people off and she's scrappy as hell. I guess, as much as I dislike her, I'll always appreciate that she looks after Karen since Karen won't let me help her.

"Anyway," Karen sighs. "I'll leave you two fags. I need a fucking shower." She turns around and leaves the room. I hear her walk upstairs and I hear water running through the pipes in the wall a minute later.

"Where are your parents today?" Craig asks.

I shrug. "Who the fuck knows? They were here earlier, but they're gone now. They could be anywhere. Maybe they're dead."

"Hopefully not…" he says. "Wouldn't that mean you wouldn't come back next time you got killed?"

"Probably," I admit.

"I don't want that," Craig murmurs.

I smile at him. "Cute," I coo. "You care about me."

He rolls his eyes at me. "Idiot. Of course I do."

I just chuckle. "Don't worry, Craig. They're probably fine. They always are."

"Yeah, probably," he agrees. He's spent enough time at the McCormick house to know what kind of shit my parents get up to. They're fucking insane.

"So, come on," I urge, "you probably have a lot of unsavory thoughts about me. Why don't you tell me what you really think of me."

"I love you," he says.

"And…?"

"You're awful," he starts. "Sometimes I think all you care about are dicks, getting high and screwing people over… yourself included."

I can't help but laugh. "How on point. Better watch that tongue of yours."

He smiles lightly. "That's all I used to think, but now I know there's more to you than that. If there wasn't, I'd force myself to leave."

I rest my elbow on the table and rest my chin in my palm, eyeing him as he trash talks me.

"You scare me sometimes," he continues. "I'm still not sure whether or not you do it consciously. Do you try, or is it just something you don't realize you're doing? I don't' know."

"You're talkative today," I note.

"Only because you asked me what I thought," he says. "For the first time in your fucking life, you asked me what I thought about something instead of just assuming."

"Well, maybe I know what's best for you," I try.

"I know what's best for me, Kenny. Not you. Just because you're immortal, it doesn't mean you're a god."

"I'm _your_ God," I say. I stand up, discarding my cold coffee. Craig follows me out of the kitchen and once we reach the middle of the living room, I stop. I turn around and push him onto the sofa. He lets out a sound of surprise as his back hits the cushions. I bend down, hovering over him.

"What now?" he asks.

"Hm?" I muse, grabbing his wrists and holding them over his head.

"You've got me pinned," he says. "The rest is up to you. It always is."

I lower myself so our chests are pressed together. "You're right," I agree. "It's always up to me… but did you ever think that maybe I'm just waiting for you to say what you want. You don't need to be invited to say you're opinion. I never new Craig Tucker was so submissive until we started fucking."

"I never knew Kenny McCormick was such a fuck up until we got close," he retorts. "Sure, I heard the rumours… but now I know the truth."

"Yeah," I say, grinding my hips against his. "You know me best. It's almost a shame. Sometimes I wish I could still shock you with my secrets."

"Sometimes you do," he admits. "When I think you've done the worst thing imaginable, you find a way to top yourself."

I smile, releasing his hands and bending down to peck him on the lips. "You're so nice, Craig," I say cynically. "Can't you see I'm damaged goods? I can't help it."

"Right," he snorts. "You're a walking cliché."

"I know you love me," I say, "but sometimes I think you have DPD, no offence."

He scoffs. "What the fuck is that?"

"Dependent personality disorder," I explain.

"Oh, really?" he sneers. "Since when did you become Doctor McCormick? You don't have the credentials to diagnose me, you idiot."

"Well, no one in their right mind would stay with a guy like me," I reason.

"Neither of us is in our right mind," he says.

"True," I relent, grinding against him some more.

He lets out a soft moan and a minute later, quick feet stomp down the stairs, halting mid-way. "God dammit!" Karen snaps, turning away. "You guys are fucking exhibitionist perverts!" I hear her holler as she runs back upstairs. It's not the first time she's walked in on us in compromising positions. It probably won't be the last, either.

Craig flushes. "Jesus Christ, Kenny… get off me before your parents get home," he murmurs.

"Nah," I say. He squirms, trying to move out from under me but to no avail. "That feels good," I tell him and he sighs, giving up.

"You're a dick," he declares.

"Yeah, I know that," I say. "It's hardly a recent development." Nonetheless, I get off of him and stand up, stretching my limbs. "What are we doing today?" I ask.

"I don't know," he says, getting up. "Let's get dressed first."

* * *

I haven't seen Kyle, Eric or Stan in about a week. It's okay, though. They're all probably busy with their girlfriends. Kyle is dating the lovely Bebe Stevens. We all knew it would happen eventually. They're both pretty happy. Stan, of course, is still dating Wendy Testaburger. They won't be breaking up any time soon. Eric, on the other hand, is with Annie Faulk. Weird, right? I won't question it. It seems that everyone has someone, which is nice. I'm happy for them all and I don't mind if I get pushed to the side.

We're sitting in Harbucks right now, ingesting more caffeine. Tweek is working here today, so we exchanged a few polite words with him.

Craig is drinking plain green tea. He likes plain things. I'm drinking coffee with a fuck-load of sugar. I hate plain things. Sometimes I think about these things – these little things – and I realize how different Craig is from me. People say that opposites attract but they eventually break apart. Eventually they run out of things to talk about. I wonder if that's what will happen to us. People say it's best to find someone you have things in common with. I wonder what me and Craig have in common, if anything.

"Craig…?" I say his name.

"Hm?"

"What do we have in common with one another?" I ask him.

He looks thoughtful for a moment. "Family," he starts. "We both have little sisters who are inseparable. Our home life sucks."

"What an awful list…" I chuckle bitterly. It seems we just have all the bad things in common… but maybe that's enough.

"Why'd you ask?" he wonders aloud.

I shrug. "I'm just waiting for the day you try to leave."

"I won't," he promises. "We've been through too much."

"Are you lying?" I ask.

"No," he says. "I don't lie and you know it." He's right. He says lying takes work. Lies build and build and grow and grow. They become hard to maintain, so it's better to juts tell the truth.

"Okay," I grin at him.

"If I did try to leave… would you stop me?" he asks.

"Yeah," I say. "I'd lock you up."

"How unsettling," he states flatly. "But, in a way, you've already got me locked up. Sometimes I sit and wonder if this is what Stockholm syndrome feels like."

I chuckle at that. "Good."

He'll be mine forever! But maybe I'm lying when I talk like this. I do love Craig and if he wanted nothing to do with me, maybe I'd back off. Then again, I lack self-control. It's something I need to work on because I don't want to keep hurting him.

* * *

The next day, I end up spotting Stan and Wendy out for a walk. I wave to them and they wave back, but we don't exchange a word. I guess that's how people begin to grow apart. I guess it's okay. I've always been the fourth wheel when hanging out with Stan, Kyle and Eric. I wonder, if I didn't wave first, would they have waved? We aren't as close as we used to be. Things change, people change ad so often for the worse. I know for a fact that I've changed for the worst. I wonder what they would say if they knew about the things I do. I wonder what they would say if they knew I hurt myself and others. I bet they'd be disappointed.

I continue walking until I reach Bebe's house. I stroll up the driveway and knock on the door. A moment later, it opens and she's standing there. "Hey," she greets.

"Hey," I return, stepping inside. "What's the plan for today?"

"Chill day," she says. "Work is killing me, so I want to have a relaxing day with my buddy. I think we could both use it."

"I hear yah," I laugh.

I take off my shoes and follow her into her room, where we watch _Paprika_ on her laptop, followed by _Legally Blonde_. As Elle Woods conquers in pink stilettos, I feel myself entering a daydream. Maybe it's the pot. I did smoke a bowl with Kevin before coming over.

"Earth to Kenny McCormick!" Bebe calls, waving her hands around in my face.

"Sorry," I laugh.

She gives me a small smile. "How are you?"

"I'm okay," I say, returning the smile.

"How's work?" she asks.

"It's fine," I tell her. She continues asking me mundane questions and I continue to answer them until she's satisfied. "So, what's with all the inquiries?"

She shrugs. "I just want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy."

"I'm not unhappy," I say.

"Are you sure?" she wonders. "You do things that only a sad person would do. You hurt yourself all the time. You can't possibly be happy if you're not content with yourself."

I roll my eyes. "Fine, I've got some stuff to deal with… but who doesn't?"

"You've got a little more on your plate than most," she says.

"Ugh," I let out a long whine, not wanting to think about this shit. She always forces me to, though. I know she's only trying to help. I know she wants the best for me…

* * *

After watching a few movies with Bebe, I head out for a night shift. I don't mind it here. It's pretty quiet, even when it's busy. People don't really like to talk about the things they buy here and the people who do talk about it are usually pretty awkward. I don't know why. There's no shame in wanting to make yourself feel good. I always put on my softest smile when people ask me for help, no matter what they're looking for.

I've sampled a lot of the merchandise, so I know what I'm talking about. I also get that everyone is built a little differently. What one person likes, another person might hate.

Lola came in here a few weeks ago and nearly turned around when she spotted me. I called her back over and I helped her pick something fun. She ended up wanting a vibrator. One that had good speed, but wasn't too loud. I showed her a few different models. She picked one and that was that.

I really wish people wouldn't be so shy, but I guess this is the world we live in. Dick-shaped dildos aren't even legal in some states!

Fortunately, my creepy boss isn't in today. It's just me here. Business is always a little better when he's not around. I don't think I'm the only person who finds him hella creepy. He's balding and kind of fat, plus he smells like hot dog water. Saying that doesn't paint the prettiest picture, huh? Sometimes I can't believe I slept with him! I must really fucking hate myself. Like Bebe says, I've got no standards and maybe that means I've lost my self-respect.

* * *

On my way home, my phone rings. I check the caller ID before answering. It's Kevin. "Hey, what's up?"

"_Hey_," he says warily. "_I'm at Hells Pass. Karen got hurt_."

"What?" I ask stupidly.

"_Karen got hurt_!" he repeats angrily.

"How?" I croak.

I hear him sigh into the receiver. "_I don't want to fucking say it_," he murmurs. "_Just get over here_." He hangs up after that and I don't hesitate to start running.


	2. We'd be in trouble

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**I want to eventually write an epilogue because it still feels a bit unfinished, but for now it's over. **

* * *

_Sexing like a stone_

_Hot as the sand_

_Entering life_

_Exiting with a man_

Blond Redhead

When I arrive at Hells Pass, I can't spot Kevin. So, instead, I walk up to a nurse and ask to see Karen. A sympathetic young man leads me to her room. I don't ask questions. I'm too scared.

I spot her lying there, limp and unconscious in an ugly hospital gown. There's a big, fresh bruise on her face and a few on her arms. She looks lifeless and I'm not used to seeing her like this. It makes me want to fuckin' cry. I let out a shaky sigh as I take a step into the room, sitting on the chair next to her hospital cot. "Karen," I say her name, even though she can't hear it. I take her hand and hold it in mine. "I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm really fucking sorry…"

I don't know how long I'm sitting here and trying to suppress the need to cry, but I feel her hand twitch in mine. When I look up, her eyes are open. "You're an idiot…" she says in a soft, weak voice.

"I know." I can't help but agree.

She lets out a breath, closing her eyes once more.

"What happened to you?" I ask with quiet anger.

She smiles warily. "Nothin' I can't handle."

I let out a sob, but I don't cry. I'm not the one who needs to cry, Karen is… but she won't. I hate seeing her like this. She's fourteen… she's still a baby. For fuck's sake, I'm still a baby, too. We shouldn't be killing ourselves when we're still so young.

A minute later, Kevin walks in. He looks incredibly tired and the bags under his eyes are look darker than usual. "You're awake…" he sighs, relief evident in his tone.

Karen forces out a smile. "Yup."

Kevin approaches her bedside and bends down, pecking her on the forehead. "I called Ruby," he tells her. "She's on her way."

Karen nods lazily and it's silent once more. No one knows what to say, so no one says anything and soon Ruby arrives with Craig behind her.

"Karen…" Ruby whispers, sitting down next to my sister and touching her hair. "God… I'm so fuckin' sorry I wasn't there."

Karen forces a tired smile. "It's okay."

They hug for a few minutes and then kiss. Everyone in the room politely averts their eyes. "I'll kill 'em all," Ruby promises.

"It's okay," Karen says. "Really, it's okay. Shit happens. Assholes get away with shit all the fucking time... especially here."

"Come on," I mutter.

"I'm just being realistic."

It makes me sick to my stomach that she's right.

Craig stands beside me, holding my hand and trying to telepathically communicate to me that things will be better someday. I know they will be. Things always turn out fine, don't they?

* * *

Karen leaves the hospital the following day and the bill is crippling. "Lovely," Kevin mutters, staring at the piece of paper. I can tell it weighs heavy in his hands.

"Sorry for getting attacked," Karen bites sarcastically, dipping her spoon into a bowl of cereal. We're sitting in the kitchen. It's a bit late for breakfast, but we don't have much food. We need to get groceries soon.

"Not your fault, Karen," he says warily.

"We're poor and trashy," Karen adds. "How are we gonna pay for the bill?"

"Don't worry about it," Kevin smiles at her in a reassuring matter. "I've got a little money stashed away."

"Okay…" she says quietly. I think she feels bad about it, but there's nothing she can do. She discards her cereal and leaves the room a moment later.

Once she's gone upstairs I call Kevin out. "You don't have money stashed away," I say. My voice wavers because I know the truth.

He shrugs. "I know, but it's okay for her to think that I do. I don't want her to worry. She's too young for all of this bullshit."

"I'll help," I offer.

"Nah," he says dismissively. "Don't worry about it, Kenny."

"Come on," I urge.

"No," he says. His voice is stern and I can tell he won't be swayed, so I relent. I feel bad about it, though. Kevin cleaned himself up a lot. I don't want him to end up back where he started – giving blowjobs in the red light district.

"Bitch," I mutter an insult.

He just smiles, ruffling my hair in a typical big-brother fashion. "I'm the oldest, right? I'm supposed to take care of you guys. We'll be fine. I promise."

"Okay," I say softly.

"Be good, all right?" he adds. "I might be gone for a couple days. Keep an eye on Karen. Call me if you need anything. I'll take my phone."

I let out a breath. "Come on, don't do this…" I try one more time.

Kevin laughs somewhat bitterly. "I can either sell cheap dime bags," he starts, "or I can make a lot of money in far less time."

"It's not easy money, though… is it?"

He shrugs. "I don't mind it."

"Yes, you do!" I hiss at him. "No straight guy wants to be railed by some fat, old hick!"

"I don't mind," he reiterates. "Sure, I used to hate it, but eventually it got easy. Once you're at your lowest, you learn things. You learn how to blank your mind. It's a cycle. Just close your eyes, relax and then it's done."

"It's not that easy," I scoff. I would know. Yeah, I've never been paid to fuck, but I've been with a lot of losers. It's never easy. Maybe it's easy when you're in that moment and you're only half aware because you allow your mind to wander, but when all is said and done and you have a minute to think... you'll hate yourself even more. "What should I tell Karen? You know she'll ask."

"Make something up," he shrugs.

"So, you want me to lie?" I reiterate.

"Yeah, lie."

* * *

The following day, my boss hands me my paycheck and after work I made my way to the grocery store. I buy apples, bananas, bread, butter, milk. All the necessities. Kevin usually does the shopping, but I want to give him a head start this time. When I get back home, I put the groceries away in the cupboard before going upstairs.

I walk down the hallway, knocking on Karen's closed door. A moment later, she opens it and looks at me expectantly. "What?"

"I bought food," I tell her. "If you're hungry…"

"Right," she says. "Thanks." She walks past me without another word and I retreat to my room.

* * *

Later in the night, Kevin returns home. He looks worn out, but when he spots me sitting on the sofa, he nods at me. "Hey."

"Hey," I echo.

"We're fine," he says.

"I know," I reply.

He smiles.

I smile.

We're both lying.

* * *

Later in the day, I call Bebe and tell her what's been going on. She gives me sympathy and I feel a lump in my throat but I swallow it. Then I hang up.

I spend the night thinking about the kind of things I usually try to avoid thinking about. I want to change, but change is hard and change is slow. I wish it was sudden. I wish I could just snap my fingers and be who I want to be. I want more for Kevin and Karen and even myself. We're in too deep. We're still so young.

Soon, Karen is standing in my doorway. She isn't wearing any make up. She's clad in a nightdress and I can see the bruises on her face and arms. "Stop fucking punishing yourself," she demands angrily. "It's pathetic. If I can handle _this_, you can handle whatever shit you're going through."

"You're stronger than me," I tell her. She's so fucking strong, sometimes I can't believe she's the same little girl who used to cling to me so desperately.

"Yeah, I know," she says cockily, crossing her arms. "You're weak as hell – weak in mind and body."

"I know," I mutter.

"You should see a doctor," she suggests. "Maybe there's something wrong in your head."

"Maybe," I admit. I wouldn't rule it out.

"This is the Prozac nation, dear brother," she says. "Everyone is a little fucked in the head. Kinda makes you wonder why, huh?"

"Yeah, what a time to be alive," I mutter disdainfully. "So, does this mean we're on speaking terms again?"

She shrugs. "I guess so. I was never mad at you, y'know. I just think you're dumb."

"I _am_ dumb," I admit.

She nods. "You should be nicer to Craig. He's not going to sit around and let you fuck with him forever. Just because you do a few nice things, it doesn't mean the relationship isn't toxic. Someday soon, you'll fuck up worse than ever and he'll run away from you."

"He might not," I say and I think that scares me more than anything.

"But he might," she retorts. "So, if you really want him and if you really love him, then you better fucking show it. From what I see, you're a complete piece of shit."

I force a laugh. "Yeah, I know I am."

She scoffs at me, shaking her head. "So, where was Kevin?"

"He went to Denver to see his supplier," I tell her easily, not having to put any effort forth to come up with a quick fib.

"Is that the lie he told you to tell me or did you make it up just now?" she asks. She knows. She always fucking knows. "He was out hooking again, wasn't he? He was hooking to pay my damn hospital bill."

"No," I murmur.

She clicks her tongue. "Liar. You treat me like a child, but I'm more grown up than you are, Kenny. If you had any semblance of maturity you wouldn't treat people the way you do."

"I know," I admit.

"You're just a scared little boy," she continues. "You're scared of everything and that's why you're so selfish. You treat people like toys. You cheat. You lie. Craig isn't a toy, Kenny. You can't just keep doing whatever you want."

"Maybe he likes it that way," I tell her.

"And maybe he doesn't," she retorts. "You need to talk with him more."

"I talk with him plenty," I insist. I let out a sigh and I know she's right. I _know_ she's fucking right.

"Maybe," she shrugs, "but you don't talk about the important things. You don't talk about the things he wants and needs to talk about. You love him, right? That's why you're so careful to keep him on a string. You treat him terribly, but then you treat him like a king. That's what abuse is – it's a cycle. If someone treated their partner like shit all the time, then they'd probably get up and leave… but if you're treating them well, then they make up excuses. Craig is probably making up excuses. When you hurt him, he probably writes it off as you having a bad day because just the other day you were acting so sweet. I think you know exactly what you're doing to him and that makes you a bad person."

"Shut up!" I yell at her. I don't want to be a bad person. I don't want to hurt people.

"No!" she yells back. "I need to say this! I've needed to say this to you for a long damn time, Kenny, so you're going to fucking listen because I don't want to grow to hate you!"

I feel my eyes get glassy, but I refuse to cry in front of my little sister.

"You used to be the most selfless person I knew," she says quietly. "What happened to you?"

"I got older," I bite. "I realized kindness does a person no good."

She laughs bitterly. "You're a liar. Kevin's a liar. Everyone is a liar! We lie to each other and we lie to ourselves. Isn't it sad? This is why I've been a bitch to you for so long and you never even realized it!"

"What are you trying to say, Karen?" I ask in a murmur.

"I think you're trying hard to convince yourself that the world is shit because you've been disappointed so many times," she says angrily. "But you don't realize that you're the one making it this way now. Yeah, bad things happen, but guess what? Bad things will keep happening unless you fucking change your ways. So button down, Kenny. It's time to be a better person. It's time to put Craig first."

I close my eyes, forcing away the tears that are trying to squeeze their way out. "I don't know what to do…" I admit.

"Talk to him," she says in a calmer tone. "When you love someone, you should be able to talk about everything. There shouldn't be fear. There shouldn't be jealously. There should just be love and other good things. Don't make Craig feel scared. Make him feel safe, instead. If you're worried he'll leave, don't scare him into staying. Have him want to stay because he's happy."

"Do you think I can?" I ask.

"It's never too late, Kenny," she promises. "So, how about we both try to be a little better?"

"Yeah," my voice cracks. "I want that."

* * *

At work the following day, my boss touches my dick and I tell him to fuck off. He just laughs and says, "That's a first." I want to punch him, but I also want to keep my job, so I refrain. I don't want to keep feeling bad about myself. I don't want to keep being an awful person. I don't want to keep hurting Craig. I don't want to keep disappointing Kevin and Karen. I'll do it for them... even if I can't to it for myself just yet.

I get off work around ten at night and when I arrive back home, I call Craig and ask him to come over. As always, he does. He lets himself in and by the time he enters my room, I'm lying in bed. The room is dark and I'm in my pajamas. I feel tired, in and out. I'm not sure why. Everything has been hectic lately and I feel like, emotionally, I can't handle it.

Craig lies down on the bed with me. He's turned to his side, forcing me to stare at his back. "What is it?" he asks me. "Something is wrong. I could tell by the sound of your voice on the phone. You sounded timid. You never sound timid."

I let out a shaky sigh, but for a long time, I don't say a word. I feel like I can't. There are things I want to say, but they won't come out. My throat is closed and I feel a lump forming, too big to swallow. As quiet as I can, I allow my lips to part and I let out a breath, trying to clear my mind and clear my throat. "Am I a bad person?" I finally ask him, shifting closer. I whisper the words, unable to sound any stronger.

"No," is all he says.

"Are you sure?" I urge, pulling him towards me so his back is pressed to my abdomen. "I feel like I'm a bad person. I need to know. Be honest."

"I don't think you're bad," he says. "If you were bad, you wouldn't care about knowing for sure. You wouldn't care about being good. I just think you're scared and because of that, you're also selfish. You hold onto everything you have so desperately and sometimes those things happen to be people. You mistake people for objects because you don't want to lose them… You make me happy, but you scare me sometimes, too. The things you say make you sound insane and sometimes the things you do prove it. You put on this mask and you wear it to protect yourself. I don't think you're really as cold as you act."

"You're making excuses for me," I say.

"Maybe," he admits.

"I'm sorry," I tell him meekly.

"I know," he says. "It's okay."

"No, it's not," I murmur. "It's not okay, Craig."

"Maybe," he agrees, "but don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. You won't lose me."

"We should break up," I say.

"I don't want to," he replies easily.

I tighten my grip on him, pressing my face into his back and letting out a rather sudden sob. He doesn't budge or try to face me. I don't let him. I'm too ashamed.

"I love you," I choke out. "I love you…"

"I know," says Craig. "I know."

"I'm sorry," I continue sobbing. "I love you… I'm sorry…"

With force, he breaks free of my grip, sitting up. I cover my face with my hands and cry into them, feeling sick to my stomach with self-hatred. I haven't cried in quite a while – not since breaking down in Bebe's car. That seems so long ago now.

Craig pulls me into a sitting position, holding me close. I press my face into the crook of his neck and curl my fingers into the fabric of his t-shirt. He lets out a whimper and I think he's crying now, too, but I can tell he's trying not to. He's whispering comfort words – saying things I don't deserve to hear. I just keep sobbing, each sound ripping my throat open 'til it feels raw and sore and I'm nearly screaming. I don't think I've _ever_ cried like this before. I don't think I've ever let myself cry like this before. Why'd it have to happen now? I can feel my eyes leaking, my nose running, and I'm drooling.

"Kenny, look at me," he requests in an uncharacteristically gentle tone. "Please…"

"I can't," I sob. "I can't…"

"You can," he insists softly. "You can, Kenny." He runs his hands up my back, over my shoulders, through my hair. He's patient. He's quiet. He waits.

"Why don't you hate me?" I ask weakly.

"Because I love you," he says simply.

"You shouldn't…" I murmur. "I'm giving you an out... You should take it."

"I don't care what I _should_ and _shouldn't_ do," he shrugs. "You know that and I know that, so fuck the rest."

I sigh into his neck, finally lifting my head. He smiles at me. It's a small smile, just like every other one of his smiles, but this time it's not void of emotion. This time, there's something in it.

"I like seeing this side of you," he admits and I can't help but scoff at that. "Not because I like seeing you in pain," he adds. "I just like knowing you trust me enough to let me see you like this. I've never seen you cry before. It's somewhat relieving."

"Oh," I murmur. "I got snot and drool all over your shirt."

"That's fine," he says. "I think you've needed to cry like that for a while."

I carelessly wipe my nose on my sleeve before doing the same with my eyes, but they keep leaking. It's like, now that I've started, I can't stop. "Fuck," I hiss at myself.

"It's okay," he assures me. "Stop holding things in."

"Says Craig Tucker," I scoff.

He shrugs his shoulders lightly. "I cry when I have to."

He's right. He's just a lot quieter about it. I let out a breath lying down and bringing him with me.

* * *

I'm not sure how long we were lying together, but eventually I feel myself calm. I sit up and stare down at Craig. He is still lying with his head against my pillow. I don't think he's asleep, but his eyes are closed. I fetch my laptop and open it up. My laptop is old and clunky, but I can't afford a new one. I open up a fresh word document and decide to do some reflective writing or angry ranting, whatever you wanna call this shit. I'll read it in one year and hopefully I'll have changed by then.

_I don't really know how to start this off. I've never been much of a writer. I know Karen would laugh and tell me to stop being such a baby, but I can't. I'm a big fucking baby. I keep screwing up. I keep screwing Craig up. I don't want to hurt him, but I know I am. You're not supposed to hurt the people you love. That makes you a bad person. I don't want to be a bad person, but I get into moods where I just don't care and I get so selfish. I know he pretends he's indifferent towards all the shit I put him through, but I know, deep down, he probably doesn't like it. I can be mean. I can be impatient. I can be rough around the edges and worse. I can be all the bad things and I can be all the bad things at the same time. Sometimes I'll catch myself in the midst of doing or saying something I shouldn't, but I still can't stop myself. If we're fucking and Craig sounds like he's in pain, I'll keep going because he doesn't tell me to stop. I think I've learned that, "Yes," and, "I'm fine," can mean something different. Just because I tell him, "I love you," it doesn't fix all the things I've done wrong. It's not like putting a bandage over a scrape, or smothering an ugly memory. _

_He hates when I cheat, but I keep doing it. I keep letting other people have the parts of me Craig wishes I wouldn't. I'm insensitive. I want everything. I allow myself to be ruled by my impulsive emotions, not bothering to think of the possible future consequences. I'm going to try to stop doing things like that. _

_Craig deserves better than me. I'm controlling. I guess some would call this abuse. I project my anger onto him. __Clearly, I have a lot to work out. So, to myself I'd like to say –_

_Don't drink so much. There are periods in your life where you won't eat for days and liquor will hit you hard. Too hard. You'll get yourself into trouble and you'll get yourself hurt. There are nights Craig won't be able to save you from. There are nights you won't be able to save yourself from. Take a page from Kevin's book and cut the hard stuff. It's not worth it. Be nice to people. Be nice to Craig. Be nice to your friends, even though they're distant these days. Be patient with your family, because they're doing the best damn job they can. Save your money. Don't blow it on stupid things. Don't blow it on shit that won't last or do you any good in the long run. Save your money and try to take care of people. _

_In the meantime, just breathe. Death is bitter, but you know that already, don't you? _

"What are you writing about?" Craig asks when I stop typing. He sits up and stares at the words.

"You… me... us…" I tell him.

"Oh." He shifts close to me, reading the words on the screen.

"Remember how we got together?" I suddenly ask.

"How could I forget?"

I feel my smile widen. We were seventeen, in grade eleven. We were at Stark's pond. It was summertime. I was goofing off. I said something stupid and he rolled his eyes at me. We both decided to go swimming. Skinny dipping, to be exact. Craig brushed off the idea first, but I ended up convincing him it would be fun. The rest is history and after that, I fell in love. I fell hard and fast. I tried to stop it, but you can't exactly control the way you feel. I get that now.

"Wanna go for a walk?" I offer, closing my laptop once he stops reading. It's nearing midnight, but I don't feel as tired.

"Okay," Craig says. "Where to?"

"Stark's pond," I tell him.

I get up and together, we leave. It's dark outside, but it's particularly warm outside. The walk doesn't take long. Nothing in South Park takes long.

"Why are we here?" Craig asks as we approach the pond.

"It makes me feel nostalgic," I tell him.

When we reach the familiar body of water, I let out a little laugh and begin taking off my clothes. "What the hell are you doing?" Craig asks in a deadpan.

"Duh, I'm going swimming," I declare, wiggling my eyebrows at him before dropping my shorts and jumping in the water naked. I close my eyes as the cold water rushes over every inch of me. When I surface, I shout to Craig, "Come join me!"

"Fuck no," he shakes his head at me.

"Come onnn!" I urge. "Pleeeease?"

He rolls his eyes, stepping out of his sneakers and taking off his socks. He reaches for the edge of his t-shirt and pulls it over his head and then reaches for the rim of his jeans and boxers, pulling them down. "Is it cold?" he asks, eyeing the water and wrinkling his nose.

"Nah," I say, grinning at him. "It feels nice."

He lets out an audible sigh, stepping in slowly. "Ah… ah… ah…" he lets out a string of gasps. "Fuck." As he makes his way towards me, the water gets deeper. Once it reaches his waist, he ducks, disappearing under water.

"Craig?" I call.

He doesn't surface.

"Dude!" I yell.

Then I feel a hand on my balls and I nearly jump out of my skin. He surfaces directly in front of me a moment later and laughs.

I laugh along with him. "You're somethin' else," I tell him, cupping his face in my hands and placing and open-mouthed kiss on his lips. "Mine."

"Yours," he agrees.

"How funny would it be if someone walked and saw us like this?" I ask with a little snicker.

"Not funny at all," he says, wrinkling his nose at the thought of it.

"It'd be a little funny," I insist. But it's late and not very likely.

A short while later we get out of the water. We sit on the grass and wait for our skin to dry. After getting dressed, we make our way to Craig's house. His parents greet us with a wary kind of knowingness that tells me they're perfectly aware of the things I do to their boy. Nonetheless, they don't seem to care.

Upstairs, Craig and I take a shower together. He lets me wash him and I let him wash me. Afterward, Craig turns off the taps and we both wrap ourselves in towels before crossing the hall into Craig's room. He continues towel drying his hair and when he's finished, it's stuck up in odd angles. I snicker, smoothing it back down. As I do this, I feel his hand on my chest, slowly travelling down south.

"Dude," I start, "your parents are home, remember?"

"That's okay," Craig says. "Let them listen."

"That's fucked up," I tell him with a laugh. But then again, I like him this way.

"You like it," he says knowingly.

I just smile at him. This time, like the last time, we're gentle with each other. He doesn't scratch up my back and I don't fuck him dry. I kiss him. I tell him I love him. I kiss him again. He says it back. He moans. He's loud. The door is still open. We don't care.

* * *

I get home late and my parents are sitting in the kitchen. I'm relieved because, as bad as they are, I don't want anything to happen to them. I greet them and they nod back. It makes my heart palpitate because it isn't often they acknowledge me. But I won't ruin it by trying to talk to them and make it something more than it is. I just smile and go upstairs.

I'm not perfect. I never will be. I'm far from it… but for Kevin, for Karen, for Craig and for me, I'm trying to be something more than what I am. I know that's all I really can do.

**Fin. **


End file.
